


Mea Maxima Culpa

by rebelise



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Catholic Guilt, Christmas Smut, F/M, Father Ben Solo, Priest Kink, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, rey is nineteen and ben is 31
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-09-23 03:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17072315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelise/pseuds/rebelise
Summary: Maz keeps inviting Father Ben Solo to Sunday dinner. When December, and Rey Niima, come around, he doesn't mind the invitations as much.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *arrives a hundred years late with a starbucks mocha* ayyyyyyyyyy so here I am at last with the priest kink fic!   
> kudos + comments=inspiration

Maz has been inviting Father Ben Solo over for dinner with her and her husband (also his father’s best friend) Chewie for months. Sometimes he accepts, but usually he declines politely, not much caring to hear them drop hints that he should really call his parents, let them know he’s alright. He doesn’t, because he knows Maz and Chewie will tell them how he’s doing anyways. He’s not about to undo all the therapy he’s done the past ten years and call up Leia and Han. He’s moved on. He’s over it. His counselor said that it’s best to let the past die. So that’s what he did.

It’s been a few weeks—since Thanksgiving, to be exact, that he accepted Maz and Chewie’s dinner invitation. He’s had to turn them down for the past three Sundays after Mass, sighing inwardly as he watches Maz tug her giant, hairy husband through the crowd to where he stands at the door, thanking the parishioners for coming. She goes on her usual spiel about how he’s much too thin and pale and plucks her husband’s sleeve, prompting him to agree. Chewie dutifully grunts in agreement, the sound muffled by the abundant beard on his face. He’s known Ben since birth. He knows about the falling out between Ben and his parents. And Ben knows that Chewie probably blames him for it, though it’s never brought up.

But the first Sunday of December, he notices a skinny girl with brown hair sitting with Maz and Chewie during Mass. He doesn’t give it much thought, since people are always visiting the parish now and then, coming and going. But then he sees her trailing after Maz and Chewie through the crowd after the service and loses track of what he’s saying—a blessing to one of his parishioners on the way out of the building.

The next moment, Maz is introducing him to that scrawny girl, wiry frame draped in a plain maroon dress, her hazel eyes darting around nervously.

“This is Miss Rey Niima. She’s going to the state university—Chewie just hired her on in the car shop and she didn’t have any plans for Christmas. So she’s staying with us for the holiday.” Rey stares at her feet while Maz chatters away and Ben can’t help but look her over—no doubt Maz scolded her for not eating enough either and promised she’d “change that as soon as possible”. Rey looks shy but her smile a few minutes later is anything but—it’s dazzling, and Ben can’t help but think that he’s never seen a girl with a smile like _that_. She looks at him and grins warmly and it makes Ben’s head spin a little, because people don’t really smile at him—especially the young women around here.

He’s the cold, reserved priest around here, the one who’s nowhere near as sociable as Father Poe Dameron. Everyone, especially the female parishioners, _adore_ Father Dameron. Ben’s grown used to it. It doesn’t bother him. Besides, he didn’t become a priest to earn the admiration of women. He’s been celibate since he began seminary nine years ago.

He drops his gaze to the floor, unable to suppress the twitch at the corners of his mouth—but then he hears Maz say something and he jerks his head up.

“Will you join us for lunch today? It’s been far too long,” she fusses, folding her arms.

“Oh. Uh…” Ben gulps and tries to desperately think of an excuse but Maz starts to talk about what’s on the menu today and Rey giggles. It’s a clear, musical sound. Ben nods briskly, desperate to end this suffering. “Okay, sounds good.”

“Wonderful!” Maz beams. “See you in a bit, then.”

“Nice to meet you, Father Solo,” Rey says brightly as she follows Maz and Chewie out the door into the overcast December weather.

He weakly raises a hand to wave. When he goes to the bathroom before heading out to his car, he notices that bright pink eclipses his usual pallor.


	2. Hit me on my blind side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter title taken from "Casanova" by Allie X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks ya'll for the comments! Excited to see where this goes!

The entire way home, Maz rants to Chewie and Rey about how “that boy doesn’t take care of himself _at all_. Leia would be horrified.”

Rey assumes that Leia is his mom. Not his girlfriend or wife. Because he’s a Catholic priest, and apparently Catholic priests don’t get married. Maybe he didn’t think dating was worth the effort. Or maybe he just wasn’t interested in fucking. God, she doesn’t want to imagine that. Gross.

Nevertheless, she gets lost in her thoughts of how awful it would be to give up sex when Maz’s fussing voice breaks through her daze. “He’s always so pale and thin. I hope he’s not sick and keeping it from us, Chewie. Either way, at least he’s coming to dinner.

Rey wonders if she made him blush when she smiled at him. Or was it just her imagination? Did it even matter? She scoffs under her breath and watches the bare trees and ashy sky blur past and then they’re back at Maz and Chewie’s comfortable little suburban home not too far from the church. Maz flutters around the kitchen, banging pots and pans and clinking long-stemmed glasses. Rey sets the table and lights some cinnamon candles that Maz keeps as the centerpiece. Chewie sits in his favorite armchair and starts puffing on his pipe. Rey’s heart swells a little with gratitude.

She tries to pretend that Maz’s invitation is anything but a pity thing. She’s always refused her classmates’ invitations to join them for the holidays in the past. But something about Maz’s frank gaze and tone of voice prompted Rey to accept. So here she is, spending Christmas with some strangers who will be more family to her than her parents ever were.

And besides, Maz is an incredible cook. Rey’s stomach rumbles and she wanders into the kitchen to find Maz pulling a lasagna out of the oven that she’d prepped before Mass. Rey rocks on the balls of her feet, puffing her cheeks full of air. This is…nice. Really nice. She’s glad she decided to come here for the holiday.

Chewie grunts incoherently a little while later when somebody raps on the front door. Rey’s pulled on a warm jumper by this point and some jeans, and she’s huddles up in front of the fire when Chewie returns to the living room with Father Solo close behind. He’s not as tall as Chewie, for sure, but he _is_ big. He’s not wearing his priest robes anymore, just a dark gray sweater, jeans, and sneakers. Hands in his pockets, his shoulders stooped a bit, bad posture. He doesn’t look nearly as stiff as he did earlier in the church lobby but he does look uncomfortable still, like he would rather be somewhere else. The way he’s carrying himself, it’s as if he wants to become as small as possible.

“I was beginning to think you’d stood us up,” Maz chimes from the kitchen. “But here you are. Why don’t you visit with Rey while I finish up in here?”

 Father Solo swallows, cutting his eyes over to Rey before looking at the ground, rolling his jaw. He’s so awkward and socially stunted it’s almost cute. _That’s what you get for giving up sex. Maybe he always knew he’d suck at stuff like that_. _Maybe he just gave up on trying to get some._

Rey beams up at him as he slowly rounds the couch and sinks down onto it—he smiles back a bit shakily, but he doesn’t show any teeth. The tips of his big ears turn bright red.

“Miss Niima,” he says politely, looking comical on the low sofa, his knees sticking up in the air. He clears his throat, staring at the jumping flames. “So, what are you studying?”

Rey scoots over to the other end of the couch he’s sitting on and leans against it, spreading out her legs towards the fire. The warmth feels good paired with her fuzzy socks. “Engineering. I wanna be a mechanic.”

“Yeah?”

She turns her head to glance at him. “Yeah.”

He gives her another one of those stiff, toothless smiles, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, nods his head. “So, is working in Chewie’s shop along the lines of what you hope to do?”

“Yep,” Rey plucks at a loose strand in her jumper. “It’s perfect for me. So…what made you want to be a priest?” She bites her lip the minute she asks the question, wondering if it was too forward. But he maintains a straight face, his whiskey-brown eyes serious.

“I guess it just made sense to me at the time,” he softly says. “It gives me a purpose. Believing in a higher power, in a plan that’s bigger than any of us.”

“Oh, okay.” There’s something soulful in those eyes and in the bow of his full lips, the lift of his eyebrows. Rey feels a bit bad for laughing at him internally, for just assuming that he’s just awkward, that’s all. She’s always been more of an irreverent person, finding organized religion a hilarity. But the way Father Solo answers her question, his long pale face so pensive, it makes her wonder if maybe there’s _something_ so it. To all the prayers, the incense, the ritual. Not that she’d ever admit it aloud.

“Dinner time!” Maz calls from the kitchen. Rey jumps to her feet, a bit too fast, and she hurries to the table to hide her flush of embarrassment. She’s always been tomboyish and inelegant. Sprawling limbs, bad manners at the table. She’s been doing her best to culture herself. But the pressure is high here, at this nice couple’s dinner table. With this silent, grave priest about to sit down across from her. Maz has already laid out the lasagna, bread, and salad on the table, finished off with a bottle of merlot. She pours everyone a glass, even Rey, who’s only nineteen.

“A little bit shouldn’t hurt,” Maz smiles. “Red wine goes excellently with the lasagna. Of course, Father Solo would know. He spent a couple years at the Vatican. He’s probably a wine connoisseur. Right?”

Father Solo ducks his head, smiling slightly, looking awkward again. Like he’d rather not be the center of attention. But Maz rattles on, keeping the conversation going. Chewie grunts every now and then when someone says something, he finds interesting. Most of the time it was Maz asking Father Solo about his travelling and some roundabout questions concerning his parents, but he always seems to skim over those, barely uttering a yes or a no and not much else. Rey gets the impression that he and his parents aren’t close. So, he has skeletons in his closet.

But he lights up when he talks about his time in Rome. Maybe the wine helps, but he loosens up and tells them about some of the small towns in Northern Italy that he especially enjoyed. Rey listens intently, wishing that someday she could visit Europe. It should take a while, but she _will_ make it there. Someday. After dinner, they end up in the living room again. Rey’s feeling somewhat drowsy after her glass of wine and it’s a nice, warm feeling. She sits on the floor, her back against the couch, and Father Solo sits in the middle of the couch, almost behind her. Maz and Chewie chat with Ben about the parish and the plans to build a new chapel in a different part of town. Rey’s dozing when Maz and Chewie say goodnight and go to bed. Suddenly, it’s just her and Ben. Oh, ok.

She wants to go to bed and he mutters, “I should head out now.” But he makes no move to leave; maybe he doesn’t want to go out into the cold night. Rey doesn’t blame him. It _is_ comfy here in front of the low fire. She asks him sleepily about Rome, his deep voice washing over her. She likes his voice. She remembers hearing it for the first time earlier that day in Mass when he read scripture to the congregation. She likes hearing about these faraway places she’s never visited, and his voice warms her up even more than the fire. She could fall asleep in the aura of this peaceful living room. For once enjoying that sense of belonging. It’s rare, but she’ll take what she can get.

“Rey?” Rey must have fallen asleep—she jerks awake when Father Solo says her name. He’s standing up now, and Rey has to crane her neck to look at him.

“Oh—shit, I’m sorry.” Rey’s eyes go wide, and she claps a hand over her mouth. She just cussed in front of a priest. She staggers to her feet, her eyes all heavy and sore, and blurts out, “So sorry for saying shit.” She could just fall through the floor right now. “Fuck, I said it again.”

She reddens, pressing both hands over her mouth. Father Solo’s lips twitch, and then he bursts into laughter. It’s the first time that she’s ever seen him laugh. For some reason, it sends a prickle down her spine. She shakes off the feeling as she sways, her mind bleary. The sounds fill her up and if she was flushing before, now she might as well burst into flame. He settles one enormous hand on her shoulder to steady her, but he doesn’t pull away as quickly as he should have. Instead, his hand drifts down her arm till he steps back. He’s not laughing anymore.

Rey tilts her head, swallowing hard.

“Ah, goodnight Miss Niima,” he says hurriedly, and only seconds later Rey hears the door click shut behind him. She just stands there like an idiot in the middle of the living room, frozen. _What the fuck just happened?_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone notice the little Love Actually reference?  
> Also, it's weird writing this since I'm studying at a Catholic uni, but ah well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a short chapter as I figure out where this fic (and my others) are going. Sadly, I'm more of a spontaneous writer who doesn't plan stories out. Let me know what ya'll think

Ben does his best to put that strange moment on Sunday evening out of his mind—it’s for the best, and really, it didn’t even matter. He must have been over-tired, let his guard down, a mere slip up—that’s all it was, but he does tell himself that it might behoove him to adopt a more distant attitude from here on out with a young woman like Rey. Or any young woman, for that matter. It has never seemed like a problem before, but he chooses to not examine that realization.

He has a great deal of preparation for the Advent season and there’s a constant stream of tasks and duties to occupy his time, a charity drive the parish puts on every year, among other things. Parishioners steadily drop off donations—toys, canned foods, and clothes, for a local charity. He oversees this outreach, recording everything that is stored in the church basement. Next week it will be delivered to the halfway house sponsored by Ben’s parish.

He’s sitting in the middle of the donations, long legs outstretched as he scans the list. His secretary, one of the elderly women in the parish, is busily chatting with some visitors nearby.

“Father Solo?”

Ben nearly drops his clipboard, jerking his head up to see Rey standing there in front of him, a box nearly covering her face. It’s full of canned fruits, vegetables, and soup.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she huffs out a laugh before he springs to his feet and pulls the box into his own arms—it’s nearly half her size, which occurs to him as amusing in the extreme. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just dropping this off for Maz.”

“No problem,” he finds a place for the box amongst all the others and sets it down.

He expects Rey to excuse herself, now that her task is finished with, but she lingers, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. Ben regards her in silence for a long moment, unsure of what to do suddenly. He picks up his clipboard again, making a point of looking it over. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Niima?” he asks, trying to come across as friendly but also let her know he’s busy.

“Do you need help down here, with organizing?” Rey asks after a long pause. Ben glances up to meet her hazel eyes, fixed on him curiously.

“Oh,” he wets his lips, his pulse spiking for some reason. “Well, I think we’ve got it covered, but thank you.” He offers her a tight smile. Surely a college kid like her has better things to do on the holiday.

Rey shrugs. “Just thought I’d check.” She turns her head—she has a delicate profile, button nose and high forehead. Ben drops his eyes again, wondering why it matters. It doesn’t.

“Maz wanted me to invite you for dinner tonight,” Rey adds. “We’re having ravioli.”

To Ben, who usually opts for takeout, homemade ravioli sounds incredible. Rey turns those large eyes upon him expectantly, and he takes in a deep breath.

“Sure,” he finally manages.

A smile splits Rey’s face. She appears genuinely delighted by his response. Ben’s not saying that it feels good, to make someone happy by just agreeing to do something. But it does. Right now, it really does.

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/rebelise96)  
> [NSFW twitter](https://twitter.com/rebelisehush)  
> [tumblr](https://rebelise.tumblr.com)  
> 


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